Angels of the Epidemic
by Ster J
Summary: Shore leave in a hot tub --sounded-- like fun... Chapel & Uhura team up to save the crew. Oh, no! Security tapes! COMPLETE--and I really mean it! No, I really do this time!
1. Default Chapter

ANGELS OF THE EPIDEMIC by Ster Julie  
  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did.  
It may own ME, however.  
  
Characters: Chapel, Uhura, & co. Rating: PG Genre: Drama, a bit of humor, shaken,not stirred  
  
INFECTION  
  
Lieutenant Uhura squirmed in her seat. Ever since her group had returned from shore leave, her skin had a crawly feeling. She noticed a fine rash under her breasts and arms and a few other places she didn't want to think about. Only problem was, the longer she sat there, especially with her uniform tights clinging so, well, tightly to her lower body, the more uncomfortable she became.  
  
Uhura brought her shift log to the center seat for Captain Kirk to read and sign. Looking toward the navigation/helm console, she noticed Ensign Chekov reach surreptitiously under one armpit, scratch, and then repeat it on the other side. He followed this up with a wriggle first to the right, then to the left.  
  
"Ants in your pants, Mr. Chekov?" Kirk asked. The navigator immediately straightened in his seat.  
  
"No, sair," Chekov answered.  
  
Uhura scratched behind one ear as she listened to the interplay between the captain and the Russian.  
  
"Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"  
  
Only one person could have that deep voice, a voice as dark as midnight at the New Moon. She turned to see the Vulcan first officer looking at her curiously.  
  
"Why do you ask, Mr. Spock?" she answered, trying not to fidget.  
  
"There are small, raised bumps behind your ear and down your neck," he replied. "Are you ill?" Chekov's head snapped in her direction, he, too, scratching behind one ear. Their eyes met in horror.  
  
"Oh, no!" Uhura breathed.  
  
"De others..." he began.  
  
"The hot tub!" they cried together.  
  
"What's going on?" Kirk demanded, handing back the signed document to Uhura.  
  
"A group of us shared a large hot tub on shore leave. We," she indicated Chekov with a small gesture, "may have had an allergic reaction..."  
  
"Or caught something," Chekov interjected.  
  
"...while we were there," Uhura finished.  
  
"How big a group?" Kirk asked. "How big was this hot tub?"  
  
"A dozen or so, sair," Chekov replied smiling. "It vas a wery big tub!"  
  
Kirk jerked his thumb over a shoulder, about to order his officers to Sickbay when the intercom sounded at his chair.  
  
"McCoy to Bridge." Kirk depressed the button on the armrest.  
  
"Bridge. Kirk here."  
  
"Jim, can you spare Uhura and Chekov a minute?" the doctor asked. "Looks like we brought a stowaway with us." Kirk was puzzled.  
  
"Stowaway?" he repeated.  
  
"Bacteria," McCoy countered. "Our little shore leave group seems to have come down with a rash." Spock moved to the sensors. The bio filters should have stopped anything hazardous from coming aboard. He ran a diagnostic program on the transporter systems.  
  
"Who else is in this little group?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Weeeell," McCoy said sheepishly, "me, for one. Then there was Scotty, DeSalle, Kyle, Riley, Leslie, Rand, Parrish, Moreau, Ames, Martinez, Rocco, Steiner, and Saunders, and we are all affected."  
  
"And all of you fit into one hot tub?" There was silence at the other end.  
  
"Who said it was a hot tub?" McCoy asked cautiously. Kirk gestured to the two embarrassed—and writhing—officers before him.  
  
"Uhura and Chekov!" Kirk exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, right!" came McCoy's reply. "Actually, the tub was a bar. Some locals pointed it out to Scotty and me, and, well, word spread." Kirk watched as Uhura and Chekov tried—unsuccessfully—to stand still.  
  
"That's not all that spread, Bones," he observed.  
  
"Anyway, send those two down, Jim. They should be a bit uncomfortable by now." Uhura and Chekov looked at each other and rolled their eyes. A bit uncomfortable??? Kirk saw the interaction between his two officers and, with a jerk of his head, dismissed them to go to Sickbay. The two nearly knocked each other out of the way in their rush to the turbo lift.  
  
Spock stepped to the center seat.  
  
"Doctor, do you need help in investigating this outbreak?" Spock offered. "You just named half of the medical staff on the sick list."  
  
"It's probably just an allergic reaction, Spock," McCoy answered. "I'll let you know if I need your help. Hell, Chris probably has a cure ready already."  
  
"Very well, Doctor," Spock answered. "I have begun a diagnostic on the transporters to see why this bacteria wasn't prevented from boarding."  
  
"You do that," McCoy replied. "I've got to go put salve on this rash. It itches like the dickens!" Kirk could hear a woman's voice call out, "Stop scratching, Doctor!" followed by a "Shaddup already!" from McCoy before the line went silent.  
  
OUTBREAK  
  
Christine was starting to fall in to a routine with the "Hot tub Gang," as they had dubbed themselves. Twice a day, they would report to Sickbay to have a soothing liniment applied to the worst of their rash, and have their vitals taken and recorded.  
  
She noticed that some of the "Hot tub Gang" were nearly clear of the mystery illness (dubbed the "Shore Leave Plague") after two days of treatment, while a few of the others were getting worse. These few were showing a slight fever and their rash was spreading to the fingers and toes.  
  
Christine had been trying to isolate the bacterium that was causing the Shore Leave Plague. Despite pulling long research hours, she was no closer to an answer. She compared those who were improving to those who had worsening symptoms. She could find no clear cut answer. Dr. McCoy and Engineer Scott spent the longest time in the pool, along with Ames and Rocco. McCoy and Scott were showing worsening symptoms, but Ames and Rocco were nearly free of the rash, and neither of them had a fever. McCoy was covered in the rash, and Scotty was confined to bed with a high fever. So far, the disease seemed limited to that shore leave group.  
  
Until Lts. Rahda and O'Neil came in with the rash, and Lts. Johnson and Shea as well as Enss. Haines and Garrovick with the fever, and more. Rahda and Haines were delirious. Shea had gone into convulsions.  
  
Nurse Christine Chapel, Acting Chief Medical Officer during Dr. McCoy's illness, put a quarantine on the Enterprise. No one, no thing could beam into or off of the ship. This compounded the disaster. The shuttle carrying Dr. Geoffery M'Benga and Nurse Ann Jacobs were due back that very day. For their protection, Christine could not allow them to dock with the Enterprise until the crisis had passed. This also meant that her roster of nurses, already decimated by the plague, would have to care for 430 crew members who were getting sicker by the moment.  
  
McCOY  
  
"Sir, STOP SCRATCHING!"  
  
"SHUT UP, CHAPEL!" McCoy roared. Christine picked up some sterile four by fours in her gloved hands and dabbed at McCoy's skin, skin rubbed raw and bleeding by the doctor's constant scratching. Then she noticed something new.  
  
"Doctor, you are causing a secondary infection with all your scratching!" Christine grabbed a spray bottle and started applying a thin layer of medication. McCoy pulled his arms back as if he was stung.  
  
"Hey! That smarts!" he protested. Christine pulled his arms back toward her.  
  
"Give it a chance to work!" she grumped. "Honestly, Doctor. I didn't know you were such a baby!" McCoy glared at his head nurse.  
  
"You'll eat those words once you come down with this," he warned. Christine gave him a smug look.  
  
"I don't plan to get sick," she said, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. "We are following proper protocols for epidemic." McCoy gave Christine a look that was almost sheepish.  
  
"Sorry, Chris," he said softly. "Didn't mean that I was wishing this on you. Hell, I wouldn't even wish it on Spock. Speaking of him, how is he? Is he still helping on the research end, or is he sick, too? You know, you'll really have your hands full if he gets sick." Christine smiled as she continued to apply the salve.  
  
"He's been working on it since yesterday," she said. McCoy snorted.  
  
"Probably hasn't rested, eaten, or changed his clothes since yesterday, either," he groused. McCoy gave the nurse the once over. "I could probably say the same for you, right, Chris?" Christine's face reddened. She had been found out. But with so much to do and so few people to do it, she hadn't had the chance to do anything but breathe.  
  
"I ran around in the sonics this morning," she said, shamefaced." McCoy snorted again. He stood quietly as Christine treated his back. "So, when is M'Benga getting back?"  
  
"He didn't make it before the quarantine," Christine explained, "so he and Jacobs went back to Starbase 11. They are waiting for us there." McCoy shook his head.  
  
"So, in the meantime, you are stuck shorthanded with a boatload of sick people in the middle of an epidemic," he grumbled.  
  
"Exactly," Christine replied. McCoy thought a while.  
  
"So what have you discovered about this disease?" he queried.  
  
"There seem to be several variations," Christine answered. "There's one group with high fevers, delirium, and some rash, like Scotty. There is a group with severe rash and some fever, like you. There's a third group that has sensitivity to light, like the captain. But what gets me is that each new case is more severe than the next. Also, those who have already recovered did not develop an immunity to the disease and are relapsing, like Chekov. I still haven't found the bacteria responsible for this disease, so I can't formulate a cure. All I can do is treat the symptoms." Christine leaned back and admired her handiwork. "There. All set for now. Please, try not to scratch yourself. You could end up with a staph infection. You know that."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," McCoy muttered, pulling on his clothes.  
  
"Where are you going?" Christine asked. McCoy gave her an incredulous look.  
  
"I'm gonna help you, that's what." Christine snickered.  
  
"You can't go back on duty!" she announced. "You're infectious. You have open sores, and fever."  
  
"I can work in the labs," McCoy defended. Christine shook her head.  
  
"You need to rest so you can get well, "she countered. "Then you can go back on duty."  
  
"Poppycock!" he said, scratching behind his ears. "I'm fine!" Christine slapped his hands away.  
  
"If you don't stop that, I'm going to sedate you!" she threatened.  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" McCoy answered in kind.  
  
Christine signaled with her hand. McCoy whirled to battle whomever was about to inject him. As the hypo unloaded its contents into his shoulder, McCoy realized that there was never anyone else in the room. Christine used the oldest trick in the book to fake him out and injected the doctor herself.  
  
As she watched McCoy melt to the floor, Christine whispered, "Sweet dreams."  
  
REPORT  
  
From: USS Enterprise  
Capt. James T. Kirk, commanding  
  
To: Federation Center for Disease Control  
  
Stardate: 6824.7  
  
Subject: QUARRANTINE  
  
The crew of the USS Enterprise is presently experiencing an epidemic of an unknown illness contracted at the Castor/Pollux Interplanetary Recreational Center.  
  
Symptoms: High fever, rash, weakness, joint pain,  
sensitivity to light, delirium.  
  
Treatment: Unknown Treating symptoms until cure  
can be found and/or developed: Rest,  
salve, cool compresses, fluids, time  
  
Research into the cause and spread of this disease is ongoing. Plague procedures are in place. All non-affected crew have been segregated. All medical personnel have been issued surgical gloves and masks. Ship is bound for the medical facilities on Starbase 11.  
  
Requesting any and all information in this disease relayed to Enterprise ASAP.  
  
Please advise—CMO and half of medical staff have already been infected.  
  
Lieutenant Christine Marie Chapel, RN, MSN  
Acting CMO, USS Enterprise  
  
RESEARCH  
  
"Nurse? Nurse Chapel!"  
  
Christine was dreaming. Or was she? She had dreamt that she was sleeping in Spock's arms, and here he was waking her up. She stretched and rubbed her grainy eyes and looked into his concerned face.  
  
"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said sleepily. "We're down two doctors, three nurses and a couple of orderlies. With more and more of the crew getting sick, I have to catch a few winks when I can."  
  
"A few winks?"  
  
"A nap, Mr. Spock," she explained. "So, what can I do for you? You're not getting sick, are you?" He shook his head.  
  
"No, I came down to offer my services for research," Spock replied. "You and your staff have been so busy, I thought I would, as the colloquialism goes, lend a hand." Christine smiled tiredly.  
  
"Wonderful! That is very kind of you." Her hand came up to cover a mighty yawn. Spock gave her a disapproving gaze.  
  
"You need to see to your own health, Nurse," he chided gently. "You need to get some rest."  
  
"I will, eventually," Christine answered. She turned and retrieved a padd from the desk. "I have been making a list of who has gotten sick, who was in the Hot Tub Gang, who has already recovered, and who has come down with a relapse. It seems that each new case is more severe. I know there has to be a pattern, but I can't find one yet. Maybe you'll have better luck."  
  
Spock took the padd from Christine and gave it a quick perusal. Then he turned his gaze back to the nurse, who was yawning once again.  
  
"Nurse Chapel," Spock said levelly, "I insist that you get some rest and something to eat before you attempt to care anyone else. We cannot lose another member of the medical staff." Before she had a chance to ague, Spock added, "Consider that an order." Christine sighed.  
  
"Aye, sir," she replied, but instead of going to her cabin, the nurse threw herself across the cot in McCoy's office and fell fast asleep.  
  
Spock sat at the Nurse's desk and poured over the information Christine had given him. He was still there thirty minutes later when the frantic call rang out.  
  
"Uhura to Sickbay!"  
  
Since he was closest to the intercom, Spock took the call.  
  
"Sickbay. Spock here."  
  
"Scotty's gone into convulsions!" Uhura reported. "Is there anyone there that can help him?"  
  
Spock felt a rustle at his shoulder. Christine had dragged herself off the cot and over to the desk.  
  
"Chapel here. Ny, can you turn him on his side? We'll be right there." Without waiting for a reply, Christine turned towards the med cabinet, scooped up a few things, bellowed, "Johnson, Kwan, grab a gurney!" and was out the door.  
  
SCOTT  
  
Uhura had been walking the halls, checking in on the sick. Her case had been mild and she was the first to recover. Still feeling guilty about bringing the disease on board, she took it upon herself to become the Morale Officer. Sometimes she would borrow Spock's harp and hold impromptu concerts in the corridors for anyone who left the cabin door ajar.  
  
Sometimes, Uhura would help the nursing staff by placing cool cloths on sweaty foreheads or refilling water pitchers. It was during one of her "mercy tours" that she noticed an odd sound coming from Commander Scott's cabin.  
  
Scott was rigid, thrashing on the bed. Uhura ran to the intercom and called Sickbay. It wasn't until after her frantic call that she realized that it had been Spock who answered the page. As she turned Scott on his side as instructed, Christine burst into the small room, followed by two orderlies with a gurney.  
  
It didn't take long for Christine to scan Scott, inject him with medication, and whisk him off the bed, onto the gurney, and out the door. Uhura pulled the soiled linens off the bed and stuffed them into the laundry chute. It was then that the enormity of it all hit her. She sank down heavily onto Scott's bunk, dropped her head into her hands, and wept guilty tears.  
  
KIRK  
  
The captain did not consider it fair. He did not take shore leave this time. He did not experience the swim bar. In fact, he chose to sleep through his shore leave.  
  
So why did he get this insipid disease? How did he get it? It didn't seem to be passed from person to person, or else a lot more of the crew would be affected.  
  
And another thing. Why did he have to get the version that attacks the eyes? Kirk found the lights much too bright. He kept adjusting his lighting down to where it was barely 20% of normal. He also found the glare from his computer terminal to be unbearable. How was he supposed to get any paperwork done?  
  
And a third thing. Kirk was finding Nurse Chapel to be something of a martinet when it came to his well being. It seemed that she caught him every time he got out of bed to work on the mountains of documents a starship can produce. Get even one day behind, and it was nearly impossible to catch up.  
  
As Kirk squinted over his third padd, he noticed the sound of a cart being wheeled to his door. He quickly powered down the monitor, turned off the pads (cursing himself for not remembering to save his work!), ran to his bed and jumped under the covers.  
  
"Computer, lights off!" he whispered.  
  
Christine noticed the lights winking off as the cabin doors opened before her. She left the doors open so that she didn't need to turn the lights back on. She marched right over to the desk and laid her hand on the monitor.  
  
"Captain, this screen is still warm," she said in a voice of authority. "You were supposed to be resting."  
  
"Aw, Nurse Chapel," Kirk groused, "I spent my whole shore leave sleeping. That's got to count for something!" Christine shook her head.  
  
"Nope. It doesn't work that way. You weren't sick then." She leaned over the captain, one hand on either side of him as he reclined in bed.  
  
"Sir, you HAVE to stay away from the computer," Christine warned as she pressed Kirk into his bunk. "Your eyes cannot tolerate any bright light or other strain right now. Mr. Sulu informs me that we have safe passage to Starbase 11. You have to rest. If you do not stay in bed, I WILL restrain you!"  
  
"You wouldn't dare," Kirk breathed. Chapel stood abruptly, went to the corridor and rifled noisily through the cart's contents.  
  
"CHAPEL!" Kirk bellowed out the door, "Chapel, so help me, if you put me in restraints, I'll charge you with insubordination! I'll put you in irons! You'll spend the next month in the brig! I'll put you on bread and water! I'll..."  
  
Chapel soon returned with a dark object in her hands. She unfolded it and placed it over Kirk's eyes.  
  
"What's that?" Kirk demanded. Christine stood and crossed her arms.  
  
"Sunglasses."  
  
"Sunglasses?" Kirk repeated. "What for?" Christine loomed over him in the alpha dominance position again.  
  
"Two reasons," she said levelly. "One, they will protect your eyes from any bright light. And two. They will remind you that you are sick, sir. You are endangering your vision by working on paperwork right now. And so, as Acting Chief Medical Officer, I'm ordering you to get some rest!"  
  
Kirk glared with fever bright eyes at his Head Nurse as she tucked him in back into bed.  
  
"I don't know what Spock sees in you," he muttered grumpily as he fell back asleep.  
  
Christine's heart skipped a beat. What Spock sees in ME?she thought. She shook her head at the preposterous notion. It was only the fever talking, she tried to convince herself.  
  
Or was it?  
  
BRIDGE  
  
Sulu fought back a yawn as he sat in the center seat. He had already pulled a double shift, again, and it looked as thought he might be there a third. He turned tired eyes to the lift doors as they whooshed open.  
  
An equally tied Spock exited and dropped down to the command chair.  
  
"Relieving you, Mr. Sulu," he said. Sulu looked him over carefully.  
  
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Spock," he said, "but are you all right? You look beat."  
  
"I have spent the last 48 hours in the labs researching the cause of this disease," he admitted, "and while it would be illogical to deny that I am fatigued, a brief shower has revived me somewhat. A Vulcan needs less rest than a Human. This said, please go and take your rest. I will need you back on duty in eight hours." Sulu eyed the Vulcan as he climbed into the center seat and sat heavily. Sulu eyed Uhura meaningfully as he passed her station.  
  
"Are you well enough to pull a whole shift?" he whispered to her. She smiled tiredly.  
  
"Yes, I think so," she answered in kind. Sulu motioned with his eyes to the Vulcan.  
  
"Call me if he gets sick," Sulu said so quietly that Uhura had to read his lips to be sure of the words. She nodded in response.  
  
SPOCK, pt. 1  
  
Uhura signaled at Spock's cabin door. She nearly jumped as the door opened. She hadn't heard Spock reply.  
  
Spock was sprawled in an uncharacteristic pose at his desk chair, his arms hanging useless at his side. One foot was turned under him. Uhura wondered how he could even keep himself from falling off the edge of the chair. She rushed to his side and took an arm, nearly releasing it as the Vulcan's temperature registered.  
  
"Sugar, you're burning up," Uhura cooed. "Let's get you seated more securely, and then I'll call for help." Spock grimaced as she slipped her hands under his arms. "Oh, I'm sorry. You must have broken out in the rash already." Pulling on the back waistband of Spock's trousers, Uhura helped him to sit back—which forced a near scream form Spock. "I'm so sorry, Pumpkin, but falling on the floor would have hurt a lot worse." Spock rested his arms on the desk and lowered his aching head on them. Uhura hit the intercom.  
  
"Uhura to Sickbay," she called.  
  
"Sickbay. Chapel here," came the tired response.  
  
"Add Mr. Spock to the sick list, Chris," Uhura replied. "I'm in his cabin. He'll need some help getting into bed." Uhura could hear a deep sigh.  
  
"On my way. Chapel out."  
  
A tired Nurse Chapel appeared at the door to Spock's quarters attired in rubber gloves and mask. Two equally exhausted orderlies stood behind her. Christine ran the med scanner over Spock, checked its findings, and clicked her tongue.  
  
"Okay, boys," she sighed. "Get him in bed." Uhura thought that the orderlies would simply carry the Vulcan to the bed. Instead they put one strap under Spock's thighs and another behind his shoulders. Attaching them to anti-grav units, the orderlies gently lifted Spock and carried him to the bed. Christine tugged off his boots and socks while Spock was suspended. Next came his trousers, followed soon by his uniform shirt.  
  
Christine did a cursory once over of Spock's skin. She noticed that the rash was full blown in all of Spock's creases.  
  
Spock rallied when Christine prepared to sponge him down with cool water.  
  
"No," he moaned weakly. "The water!"  
  
"Water?" she repeated.  
  
"Check the water supply," he gasped. "I wasn't sick until I took that shower."  
  
Christine looked at the basin of water the orderlies had brought her from Spock's lavatory and the sponge she held in her hand. The nurse had never been more thankful for a pair of protective gloves.  
  
"I'll call the science labs and tell them to check the water," Uhura offered. Christine had forgotten that she was still there.  
  
"Better do a shipwide hail to warn the crew not to use any water that doesn't come out of a ration pack," the nurse added, motioning the other orderly towards the replicator. "Get me four ration packs of water," she ordered. As Christine changed into a fresh pair of gloves, she could hear Uhura's voice echoing in the corridor, "All hands, now hear this." Opening a new steri-pack of sponges and a container of water, Christine gently cleansed and dried the affected areas of Spock's body, then spread a soothing unguent over them. She motioned the orderlies to cover the Vulcan. Christine didn't have to use the scanner to know that Spock had passed out. That was evident from his silence as she "played servant" to him.  
  
Uhura joined Christine by the bed as the orderlies packed up the supplies they had brought.  
  
"It was a good thing you were here, Ny," Christine murmured, not wanting to disturb Spock's rest.  
  
"I had come to borrow his harp," she whispered back. Uhura took a gulp of air, almost a sob. "Why did I insist our group all go to that swim bar?"  
  
"You can't blame yourself, Ny," Christine replied softly. "Our bio filters must be off on the transporter. It should have taken care of this."  
  
One of the orderlies tapped Christine gently on the arm.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "You are being paged." Christine moved toward the desk.  
  
"Chapel here."  
  
"Adams here, ma'am. Mr. Scott has taken a turn for the worse. Looks like encephalitis." Christine gasped.  
  
"On my way." She turned to the orderlies. "C'mon, guys," she said as she rushed from the room.  
  
Uhura lingered behind, studying Spock's still face.  
  
"I just came to ask if I could borrow your harp again, Sugar," she crooned. "I'm so sorry you got sick." Uhura lightly brushed Spock's hair back into place before leaving, his Vulcan harp tucked under her arm. No matter what anyone told her, Uhura felt responsible for this outbreak. She promised herself that she would so what she could to ease everyone's suffering.  
  
CHEKOV  
  
"Pavel," Uhura chided, "why are you still in bed?" Chekov had been with her landing party group and was one of the first to get sick.  
  
"I am wery seeck," he moaned.  
  
"Pavel, you had a mild case like me," Uhura fumed. You should be on your feet by now!"  
  
"I tink I had a relapse," he grumbled.  
  
"A relapse?"  
  
"Da," he grouched in response. "My rash is back vit a wengence. I couldn't possibly seet for a whole duty sheeft."  
  
"Well, what did you do to make the rash return?" Uhura queried.  
  
"Notink," Chekov replied, perturbed. "I jest took a leetle shower to vash all dat gunk off."  
  
"Gunk?" Uhura interjected.  
  
"Da, gunk. You know, the medicine dey have been putting on us. I vashed it off and I got back de rash." Uhura thought a moment. Maybe it is in the water. She moved towards the door.  
  
"Pav, I need to tell Christine about this," she said as she moved towards the door. "You sit tight."  
  
"Sit tight?" he groused to himself. "I can do neither of dose tings right now!"  
  
Uhura rushed to the science labs with her news.  
  
"Chris? Chris!" she called.  
  
"In here," Christine called from Science Lab 2. Uhura paused to catch her breath.  
  
"Chekov's had a relapse," she announced breathlessly. Christine sighed and started to get to her feet. "Wait," Uhura interrupted. "I've already asked Ames to go see him." Uhura took another gulp of air. "It is in the water. Pavel said that he took a shower and he got worse. Just like Spock got sick after taking a shower." Christine looked over her notes.  
  
"Ny, have you had a shower since you've been sick?" she asked.  
  
"Why?" Uhura asked, sniffing under her arms. "Do I stink?" Christine smiled tiredly.  
  
"No, I mean have you had a water shower or have you only used sonics?"  
  
"I've only had time for a quick run around in the sonics." Uhura's eyes lit up. "And I suppose, Miss Christine, that you haven't had time to bathe either, right?" Christine turned to the terminal.  
  
"Computer."  
  
WORKING  
  
"Compare sick roster to water usage." The computer signaled that it was ready. "Compare well crewmembers to water usage."  
  
WELL CREMEMBERS HAVE USED 98% LESS WATER THAN SICK CREWMEMBERS.  
  
The women both brightened at the computer's report.  
  
"That's it then," breathed Uhura.  
  
"Spock was right, but then, when isn't he?" Christine added. She turned to the communications officer. "Ny, it's time for another shipwide announcement. Tell everyone to stop their water consumption immediately. Tell them to limit themselves to sonic showers only until we get the water system purged. That means no sponge baths, no drinking from any faucets, no brushing one's teeth even, unless it's done with the ration pack water."  
  
Uhura moved to the com link and began, "All hands, now hear this..."  
  
SPOCK, pt. 2  
  
Christine wearily pushed the handcart to the next doorway. Spock's cabin. He had been the last to get sick, and it looked as if the disease had mutated to another degree of severity. His rash was more pronounced, the fever higher, and the delirium more fanciful. He had not moved from the time the nurse had helped him into the bed except for the slight hand movements and random facial tics. Christine wondered what demons he was fighting today.  
  
After donning a fresh set of gloves, Christine emptied two chilled, purified water packs into a clean basin, opened a pack of sterile sponges, and began to drape cool, wet cloths on Spock's forehead. She used the other sponges to gently bathe him and pat him dry. She rubbed a soothing salve onto the worst of his rash, then covered him with a sheet. She noted his temperature, pulse and blood pressure in his chart.  
  
"If you insist in playing servant to me and in touching me in such a provocative manner, we will need to get married."  
  
Christine nearly jumped at the sound of his deep voice. She looked down at the bed and saw Spock looking at her with sultry—and fever-shined—eyes. It took a moment for her to find her voice.  
  
"Oh, you say that to all the nurses," she bantered. She noticed Spock looking past her with consternation to his anteroom.  
  
"I-Chaya!" he ordered weakly. "Get off the chair!" Chritine looked at the seat—the very empty seat-- by Spock's desk. "How did you get in my room? Mother will be displeased. Now, go outside! Go where you belong!"  
  
After this tirade, Spock fell wearily against the bed.  
  
"Who's I-Chaya?" Christine asked. Spock looked confused.  
  
"I-Chaya, my sehlat," Spock answered petulantly. "You know him. We play with him every time you come over." Spock looked around the cabin as if searching.  
  
"What are you looking for, Spock?" Christine asked as she changed the cloths on his head.  
  
"My father," he answered in a small voice. "He should be here. He's always nearby when I am sick." Christine held a straw to his lips, trying to coax him to drink some water.  
  
"Sarek is not here, Spock," she soothed. He hung his head.  
  
"But he always holds me when I'm sick," Spock said moodily. "He holds me for days and days until I'm better." Again Spock turned a smoky gaze to Christine. "You could hold me," he prompted. Christine raised a brow in a nearly Vulcan fashion.  
  
"You need rest and fluids," she replied, suddenly no-nonsense. "My holding you is not going to get you better any faster. The sooner you get better, the sooner we can get back to researching this illness and work on a cure." Spock sunk low into the covers.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he pouted.  
  
"Good," Christine nodded. "Now, I have to get back to my rounds. I have the whole command deck today. I will be back to check on you, but that won't be for several hours. Call me if you have an emergency." She pulled off her soiled gloves and donned a fresh pair. When Spock did not respond to the snap of the sterile gloves, Christine knew he had fallen back to sleep.  
  
RECOVERY  
  
Kirk and Chekov exited the lift onto the bridge. It had been a rough week for the whole ship. A bleary eyed Sulu turned in the center seat.  
  
"Am I glad to see you, Captain!" he said wearily. Kirk looked at him askance.  
  
"Don't tell me you've been on duty the whole time!" he exclaimed. Sulu gave him a sheepish smile as he vacated the chair.  
  
"It fells like it," he replied. "Actually, I only pulled three double shifts. Or was it four?" Kirk clapped the Asian on the back.  
  
"Well, Sulu," Kirk replied affably, "thank you for bringing us into safe harbor. Go get some rest." Sulu's tired eyes lit up.  
  
"With pleasure!" Sulu pulled himself up the steps and into the lift. At the doors, Sulu paused and turned to the captain with a wicked glint in his eye.  
  
"Oh, and Captain?" he called. Kirk turned to Sulu. "Nice shades!"  
  
Kirk raised a hand to the sunglasses Nurse Chapel still insisted he wear for the next 24 hours as the doors closed on a laughing Sulu. Chekov nearly choked on the chuckle he tried to stifle. Kirk whipped around to him with a glare.  
  
"Laugh it up, donut boy!" the captain muttered, referring to the object Chekov had tucked under his arm. It was an inflatable ring for his seat. The Russian's rash had been so pronounced on his groin that it hadn't cleared up completely. However, due to the shortage of personnel, he was pressed into returning to duty. Nurse Chapel had said that the ring would take some pressure off the affected area. Chekov was willing to try anything. He had gotten so terribly bored while recuperating!  
  
Discreetly, Chekov pulled the object out, gave it a few puffs of air and set it on the seat at the navigation console. He gingerly parked his backside on it, letting out a "Boze moi!" at his tender rear made contact. He shifted a bit until he found a somewhat comfortable position. Noticing how unsteady he felt on the cushion, Chekov muttered, "I tink I'm goink to be spaceseek!"  
  
Uhura walked into a quiet Sickbay. The last of the patients had been discharged to their own quarters, and the nurses had begun to filter back. Dr. M'Benga and Nurse Jacobs were returning in three hours from their unexpected extended leave. She found Nurse Chapel seated at her desk.  
  
"As soon as I download this report," Christine said tiredly, "I'm going to gather an armload of water ration packs, find a tub, and take a long hot, soak. I do not want to see another pustule as long as I live!"  
  
Uhura knew she was trying to be humorous, but the words stung nonetheless. Christine saw her friend lower her head in shame.  
  
"Ny?" she asked tentatively.  
  
"Now I know how Typhoid Mary must have felt," Uhura said sadly.  
  
"Now, Nyota," Christine chided, "stop blaming yourself. You were a big help to the nursing staff." Uhura threw up her hands.  
  
"Some help!" she fumed. "I ended up infecting and reinfecting some of the crew!"  
  
Christine put her hands on Uhura's shoulders.  
  
"You didn't know," she said, shaking Uhura gently. "None of us knew. Still, you helped us by checking on the crew when we were doing cabin calls. And those impromptu concerts really soothed some frazzled nerves. I know. People told me.  
  
"You also got important messages to the crew," Christine continued. "All of us could have gotten sick if it weren't for you. And then where would we be?" Christine rubbed Uhura's arms. "You were a real angel." Uhura smiled at that.  
  
"What about yourself, Miss Florence Nightingale?" she teased. "Holding down Sickbay, researching the disease, finding the culprit and a treatment, going door to door smearing cream on everyone I don't want to know where, and I know you hardly slept all week." Christine laughed.  
  
"Oh, I'm going to get a lot of sleep now" she acclaimed. "That is, if I don't have nightmares." Uhura was puzzled.  
  
"From the disease?" Christine shook her head.  
  
"From everybody's ramblings. You should have heard some of it. I got propositioned more times that I care to admit." She smiled shyly. "And one marriage proposal," she whispered. Uhura studied her friend's dreamy expression.  
  
"He didn't!" she breathed.  
  
"He did," Christine replied wistfully. "Too bad he doesn't remember any of it."  
  
Uhura slipped her arm into Christine's and steered her away from her desk.  
  
"Come on. Your report is finished, we are both off duty, it's lunchtime and I'm buying," she stated. "After all this, Chris, I know you need a drink."  
  
The two women walked toward the doors. Right before they reached them, they parted and revealed a scabby, crabby McCoy coming back on duty.  
  
As the two women pushed by him, they announced,  
  
"MAKE WAY FOR THE ANGELS OF THE EPIDEMIC!!"  
  
FIN 


	2. The Aftermath

ANGELS OF THE EPIDEMIC—The Aftermath

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did.

It may own ME, however.

Characters: Uhura, Scotty & The Big Three

Rating: PG

Genre: Drama, a bit of humor, shaken, not stirred

===

Uhura found a blinking light on her console as she returned from lunch with Christine. Her hackles rose as she saw the address on the message--the Castor/Pollux Interplanetary Recreational Center.

"Damn swim bar," she muttered as she hit the switch.

TO: Nyota Uhura, USS Enterprise

MEMO: Illness?

Dearest Nyota,

Hello, Sugar! I was happy to meet your sweet self at the C/P swim bar last month. I hope you and your many friends enjoyed themselves and will come back soon.

I just got over a nasty bug. Did you get it, too? Seems that my bar was targeted by these new folk who have been trying to buy out my business. Creepiest guys you ever saw, Vuhrangee of Furingy or something like them. Never heard of them, and they better hope to the gods that I never catch up with them, or I'll rip their huge ears off and shove them between their fangs! (I hold you they were ugly.) Seems their MO is to slip something into the water, then try to sell you the cure for a king's ransom, meaning they wanted to trade me the bar for the cure. I didn't buy it, and the police didn't catch these oily suckers before they slipped away. They DID get one vial of the cure, though. I had it and the diease analyzed and I have attached the analyses to this message. If you or any of your friends come down with it, have your medics synthesize a batch right away. This bug isn't deadly, but annoying as hell.

No charge for the cure except this (wink): Next time you and your ship are in the area, please look me up. Wouldn't want to lose such good customers!

And, Sugar, your first two drinks are on me.

Kissy, kissy!

Awleri

%Attachment

Uhura didn't know whether to cry o to throw something. She paced in a tight circle, muttering to herself the whole time.

"Vuhrangee... selling the cure... little weasels... two drinks... I'll take those two drinks and throw them in that barkeep's face! not deadly? Ask Scotty, or Spock... "

Uhura stopped short. Neither Spock nor Scotty had returned to duty yet. She moved quickly to her desk, slipped a disk into the slot, and downloaded the message and analysis. Once finished, she bolted out the door and ran to Sickbay.

"Oof!" McCoy grunted as Uhura barreled into him on her mad rush to Sickbay. "Hey, where's the fire?" he groused.

"Here's the analysis of the disease and the cure," Uhura breathed, pressing the disk into the doctor's hand. He looked up at her in surprise.

"Where'd you get this?" Uhura pushed the doctor over to the nearest desk, grabbed the disk and put it into the slot for him. Skipping past the letter, she pulled up the two reports.

"Remember the bartender?" Uhura knew that she didn't have to elaborate.

"The purple scaly guy with the long tail?" he replied as he began to read. Uhura nodded. "The one with the crush on you?"

"Yeah, that guy," Uhura replied in disgust as she remembered him. He had "accidentally" brushed her with his tail at every opportunity as he served her party's drinks. "Seems that someone tried to force him out of business by contaminating his hot tub. Then they tried to exchange the cure for the bar!"

"Hmm," McCoy replied, scratching absentmindedly at the few remaining scabs behind his ear. Uhura knew she had lost the doctor's attention, so she quietly slipped away to let him read in peace.

Moving to the ward, Uhura looked around to see if anyone was still sick. She spotted Chief Engineer Scott donning his uniform shirt.

"Scotty!" she cried. "You're finally better!" Scott looked up and gave her a weak smile.

"Aye," he breathed, "I'm much better noo." Uhura wrapped her arms around him gently. "Especially since you're here."

Uhura pulled back and looked Scotty in the eye. He was still so pale and weak.

"Scotty," she whispered as angry tears filled her eyes, "someone infected us deliberately."

"What's that ye say?" She nodded, wiping her eyes.

"They targeted the bar because the owner wouldn't sell," she said in a voice full of contempt. "Then they tried to trade the cure for the bar."

"Could you repeat that Lieutenant?" Both Uhura and Scott turned at the sound of their captain's voice.

The sight was nearly comical. In walked Captain Kirk, still wearing his dark glasses, followed by a pale Spock and a scratchy McCoy. Uhura looked back at Scott, wrenched back from death's door, and took a deep breath to calm herself.

She gave the officer's a summary of the message she had received and reported her decisions to give a copy of the reports to Dr. McCoy. At the end of Uhura's report, Kirk nodded.

"Better late than never, it seems," he remarked.

"Captain," Spock interjected in a still-weak voice, "these beings need to be brought up on charges. Biological warfare, assault on Starfleet officers, attempted murder..."

"Murder?" the others replied.

"We nearly lost Mr. Scott," Spock countered.

"There will be a murder if I ever find those people who tainted the tub," McCoy fumed. "What were they called, Uhura?"

"The bartender wasn't sure," she replied. "He called them 'Vurangee' or 'Furingy.'" Kirk looked to Spock.

"Have you ever heard of these... " Kirk started. Spock shook his head.

"No, sir," he replied quietly. "I will search the computer for any references at my earliest opportunity." Spock eased himself up from the chair in which he had been seated. "I need to retire for the day." McCoy took the Vulcan's elbow and steered him to a bed.

"You'll be my guest for the night," the doctor stated firmly. "You overdid it, as per usual," he muttered as he led Spock through the ward.

"No arguments here, Doctor," Spock replied as he allowed McCoy to help him into the far bed. Not even bothering to remove his boots, Spock crawled into the bed, turned onto his side and shut out the universe. He fell asleep instantly.

Kirk looked at his weak first officer, his looking-like-death-warmed-over engineer, and his itchy chief medical officer through his tinted lenses and saw red.

"Victims," he breathed. "We were innocent victims. We were pawns for these creatures." Kirk began to pace as his anger built. "Someone's going to pay."

Guilt made Uhura's eyes grew huge.

"I'm going to turn this over to the Judge Advocate General' office to handle," Kirk continued to fume, "because if I did it myself, I may murder someone!"

Kirk stopped his pacing as Uhura audibly gulped.

"Lieutenant?" he questioned. Uhura snapped to attention.

"I take full responsibility," she began. Kirk stopped her with a wave of her hand.

"It wasn't your fault," he dismissed. "You were an innocent bystander." Uhura's gaze fell.

"Not so innocent," she whispered, miserable. Kirk took Uhura's shoulders and shook her gently.

"Innocent," he insisted. "Stop wallowing in guilt. It's... it's unbecoming." The captain turned on his famous Kirk grin, highest setting.

Uhura peeked up at him through her dark lashes and smiled shyly.

"Aye, sir," she replied as his absolution washed over her.

"Now, as you were," Kirk said as he released her."

"Aye, sir," Uhura repeated. She turned and started out the door.

"Oh, and Lieutenant," Kirk began. Uhura turned back.

"Sir?"

"Let's stick to less exotic bars on the next shore leave, alright?" he teasingly ordered. Uhura gave Kirk her most vixen gaze.

"Perhaps you could show me some, sir," she replied with a wink.

FIN


	3. Fallen Angel

ANGELS OF THE EPIDEMIC 3—Fallen Angel

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did.

It may own ME, however.

Characters: Chapel, Spock Uhura, & McCoy

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Drama, a bit of humor, shaken, not stirred

A/N: Rated PG-13 just to be safe. This is just a tad naughtier than I usually write.

===

Spock awakened to the soft shurring of curtains being drawn around the next bed. Whoever his new neighbor was was whimpering in pain. There had been no new outbreaks after he fell ill, Spock had been told. Was this a new illness or just another case of Hot Tub Fever?

"Chris," came McCoy's voice from behind the screen, "just you rest. We'll take good care of you."

Chris? Could Dr. McCoy mean Nurse Chapel? Spock thought. She had worked many long hours in caring for the crew. It seemed unfair to Spock that she should be stricken now.

And how had she gotten the disease? It was Nurse Chapel that had initiated the quarantine and followed all the protocols for contagion, including the ban on using water from the ship's plumbing system. Was there another way for this disease to spread, and was the crew still in danger? The Vulcan had many questions.

"Doctor McCoy?" Spock called.

"Not now, Spock," came the voice from behind the curtain. "I'm busy with a patient."

"I know," Spock replied through the curtain. "I also know that you are still short-staffed. May I be of assistance?"

There was a pause, then the curtain was shushed back.

"That's... That's kind of you, Spock," McCoy said as he snapped off the protective gloves. "I really need to take a look at this culture. Chris seems to have another new strain of the disease."

Spock looked at Nurse Chapel. She was lying face down with only a sheet covering her. Angry red blisters lined the spaces between her fingers and toes and covered the back of her knees and neck. There were also red splotches trailing under her arms and along the sides of her breasts.

"What do you need me to do?" Spock asked quietly as he took the gloves that McCoy was handing him.

"First put these on," the doctor began. "Now, I've already taken care of her front and her, uh, private areas." Damn, I'm blushing, McCoy thought. "I need you to bathe her back, her arms and her legs, then put that salve on the red areas."

Spock picked up the tube McCoy indicated.

"Do I apply this in a thick coat or thin?" Spock asked as the doctor changed the cool cloth on Christine's forehead. "Do I just apply it or rub it in?" McCoy looked at Spock as if he had grown a third head. "Doctor," Spock said in exasperation, "I do not remember the particulars of my own illness or it's treatment. I wish to do this correctly, for Nurse Chapel's benefit." McCoy's gaze softened.

"Wash her down in sections, dry her off, then apply a thin coat with the swabs," McCoy explained patiently. "Rubbing the medicine in would be beneficial, but if it seems to cause her discomfort, don't rub." The doctor picked up the culture he had taken earlier and turned to leave. "Say," he declared as he turned back. "How are you feeling today, Spock? Any better?"

"I am still somewhat fatigued," Spock replied, nodding, "but much better than yesterday."

"Good. I'll be in Lab 1 if you need anything," McCoy said on his way out the door.

Pathetic whimpering drew Spock's gaze back from the door where McCoy had just exited to the suffering woman on the diagnostic bed. He looked at the paraphernalia surrounding the nurse, the gloves in his hand, and the creamy whiteness of her skin, marred by the angry splotches of the disease. He cleared his suddenly constricted throat to shake himself from his reverie, donned the gloves and began to work.

Spock's first order of business was to strengthen his mental shields. He would not invade Christine's privacy by entering her mind without permission. This only took a few seconds, and Spock had accomplished this task before he had the washcloth wrung out.

Gently, Spock lifted Christine's hair from the back of her neck and bathed her gently there. He patted the area dry and applied a thin coat of the ointment. Spock noticed a large welt behind her right earlobe and he took extra care there, reminding himself to check her left ear when he was finished.

Next he bathed one arm, then the other. He looked at her hands with dismay. These hands, the ones that had soothed so many sick crewmembers, including himself, were bubbled with blisters, swollen and angry looking. Spock worked tenderly on those hands, those healing hands.

Spock moved up to her elbows. They were not as bad as her hands, but they were not unaffected and needed salve as well. Christine's armpits needed extra care. Each sported several large, weeping welts.

Christine vocalized again.

"Forgive me if I am hurting you, Nurse Chapel," Spock said, wondering if she had moaned in relief or in pain.

Mercifully, Christine's back seemed unaffected. Spock wiped her down and dried her carefully. He could feel her fever through his gloves and was reminded that he should change the cool compress on the nurse's forehead.

Spock moved the sheet that covered Christine and quickly inspected her top of her buttocks. McCoy had said that he had taken care of her 'front and her private areas," but Spock wondered if that included the good nurse's backside. The welts that trailed between her glutes did not seem to have any ointment on them. Spock sighed and plowed ahead. He wanted to do a thorough job, so he bathed, dried, and anointed this area as well. He concentrated on the job at hand, mentally scolding himself for noticing the curve of her hips or the softness of her skin. The thought that she had done the same for him with detachment and professionalism shamed him into trying harder to do the same for her.

But the image of her lying there was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew.

Spock continued his work down Christine's thighs and calves, spreading extra ointment on the back of her knees. Moving to the foot of her bed, Spock bathed Christine's feet, gently spreading her toes to treat the livid blisters there. Remembering the blister behind her right ear, Spock moved to the head of the bed. Cradling Christine's head gently, Spock turned it to the left so he could treat her other ear. Once finished, he once again replaced the cool compress on the nurse's head. Spock unfolded the sheet covering Christine's hips and covered her legs, then her back. He removed the protective gloves, gathered up the supplies McCoy had left him and placed them on a counter.

Returning to her side, Spock delicately touched the silk of Christine's hair.

"Nurse Chapel?" he began. "This is Spock. I am in the next bed. If you need anything or anyone, call out and I will hear you." He stroked her hair again. "Rest now." Pulling the drapes closed around Christine's bed, Spock returned, exhausted, to his own.

Uhura tiptoed into the ward, not wanting to awaken the two patients there. She peeked through a split in the curtain and saw her friend Christine.

"Poor angel!" she breathed.

"Do you not mean 'fallen angel'?" Spock said wearily as he sat up in bed. Uhura was confused.

"'Fallen angel' has a totally different connotation, Mr. Spock," she replied.

"Forgive me if I take poetic license," he replied. Spock knew very well that a fallen angel was a devil. "Miss Chapel was an angel of comfort to all of us that took sick last week, and she has fallen in the line of duty. Hence, Fallen Angel."

Uhura opened her mouth to argue further, but hen she saw a teasing twinkle in Spock's eye. She pursed her lips in a mock scowl.

"Well, ­someone­ here is feeling better," Uhura said. Turning back to her friend, she asked, "How long has Christine been here?" Spock turned his gaze to the privacy curtain.

"She was brought in three hours ago," he answered. Uhura was puzzled.

"Has Doctor McCoy tried the serum on her?" she asked.

"I believe that he is still running tests, both on Miss Chapel's illness and on the formula," Spock replied.

Christine stirred at the sound of the voices around her.

"Spockie?" she called in a small voice. Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Uhura tried in vain to smother a giggle. "Spockie?" Christine called again. Spock rose from his bed, drew aside the curtain and moved to the nurse's side.

"This is Spock," he responded.

"Did you bring your bear?" she asked in a child-like voice.

"My bear?" Spock echoed.

"Spockie!" Christine replied, perturbed. "You ­know I come over your house every day and play with you and your bear! How could you forget?" Spock looked over to Uhura and shrugged. He had no idea what Christine was going on about.

Uhura stepped forward and put her hand softly on Christine's head.

"Chrissy," she began. "It's Ny. You got sick, Angel. We're going to take good care of you and get you all better." Christine lifted her head and turned fever-bright eyes on Uhura.

"Ny-Ny?" she breathed.

"Yes, Sugar," Uhura smiled. Christine continued to sit up in bed, her face darkening in anger.

"You stay away from Spockie," she threatened, ignoring the sheet as it slipped down her bare form. "Spockie is my friend. He lets me come over to his house and play wif his bear!"

Spock pulled his gaze away from the nurse, retreating quickly behind the curtain.

"Chrissy," Uhura gasped as Nurse Chapel grabbed a handful of her hair. "Chrissy, ow, let go of my hair. You're sick, honey, and you need to go back to bed."

"He's my friend," Christine hissed.

"Spock, help me!" Uhura cried.

"Is Miss Chapel covered?" Spock asked reticently. Uhura grabbed an end of the sheet and threw it haphazardly over Christine's shoulder.

"Ow!" she replied. "Yes! C'mon, Spock! Give me a hand!"

Spock moved the curtain aside and was rewarded with a full view of Christine's nude, rash-splattered body. Uhura's attempt to cover the nurse had failed. Stooping down, keeping strict custody of his eyes, Spock grabbed the sheet from the floor and threw it around Christine as he enfolded her in his arms.

"Please release Lieutenant Uhura, Miss Chapel," he said gently into her ear.

Christine complied immediately, giving Spock a broad, fevered smile in return.

"Spockie!" she exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around the Vulcan's shoulders. "You came to play!" Christine hugged Spock briefly, then released him and started to cast her gaze around sickbay. "Where's 'Chaya?" she asked as she clapped her hands and called, "Here, boy!" followed by three short whistles.

Spock was hard pressed to keep Christine's body covered as she continued to move, searching for the imagined sehlat. As he tried to coax Christine back into bed, Uhura ran to the closest intercom and paged Dr. McCoy.

Meanwhile, Spock continued to return Christine to her bed.

Christine's playful child-like nature changed quickly into something more sultry. She seemed to realize that she was quite naked under the sheet, and that Spock was bending over her bed.

"Hey, Sailor!" she purred. "Weren't you my bathboy?" Spock blushed despite his attempt at control. "You came over to play," Christine continued, "so let's play." She pulled on Spock's uniform, trying to pull him atop her, but stopped as a hypo hissed against her shoulder. At the sudden release of Christine's hands, Spock went flying backwards, his momentum finally stopped by Uhura.

"Easy there," Uhura breathed as she held onto the Vulcan. "I've got you."

Spock recovered quickly and extricated himself from the communication officer's hands. Two sets of women's hands on him today. Ah, yes. His dreams would indeed be vivid tonight.

McCoy loaded two more hypos and emptied them into Christine. Uhura looked on hopefully.

"Is that the cure, Doctor?" she asked. McCoy didn't answer until Christine's temperature began to fall. The doctor grinned one of his famous lopsided grins.

"Seems so," he responded.

Spock sat heavily on his assigned bed. McCoy mistook his actions for relapse, but Spock knew that they were just the reaction of someone who had successfully completed a struggled for his honor. A medical scanner passed over Spock a few times, and McCoy grunted at the display.

"This shows you're fine, Spock," the doctor reported, "so go home. Stop taking up valuable space here." Spock merely tossed his gaze around the near-empty sickbay and raised an eyebrow in response.

Spock stood, straightened out his uniform, and moved toward the door. He stopped as he passed Nurse Chapel's bed and gave her one last look.

Christine's blonde hair had fanned out on the pillow when the hypo took effect, giving her an illusion of a halo. Gone was the sultry, "fallen angel" look on her face. It was replaced by a look of relaxed innocence. The blisters were already fading as her temperature continued it's drop to more normal levels.

Spock was pleased that this hard-working angel of mercy would no longer suffer the indignities of delirium, or the pain of blisters and welts in so many delicate areas, the itching, the sensitivity to light, or the mortification of relying on someone else to handle your most basic needs. As Spock left her side and exited Sickbay, he made a decision.

Spock would see to it personally that word of these "Vuhrangees" and their sinister plots of extortion and biological warfare would be made known to all Federation of Planets member worlds, and as many fringe worlds as possible. The message would include the symptoms of the disease and the chemical formula for the cure. Spock then made a second decision with a twinkle in his eye.

He would not meditate away his reactions to the events of the past few hours. Spock would allow himself to entertain whatever dreams may come.

FIN


	4. Film at Eleven

Angels of the Epidemic 4—Film at Eleven

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did.

It may own ME, however.

Characters: Spock, Christine

Rating:PG

Genre: Drama, a bit of humor, shaken, not stirred

===

Spock lay quietly in his cabin, still weary, not yet fully recovered from the "Hot Tub Fever." Something danced at the edge of his awareness, something important, but he could not remember what it was.

His mind drifted back to the incident in Sickbay, when Nurse Chapel finally succumbed to the disease that had plagued the crew. He could still see Christine's nude form as she fought with Lieutenant Uhura in her delirium, the red splotches on her body marring the creamy canvas of her skin.

Those images disturbed him and he was grateful that no one other than himself and Uhura witnessed Christine's vulnerability. No one, saw no one ...

Spock shot up in bed, nearly leaping clean out of it.

"Security cameras!" he breathed. "Security cameras!" The thought of what Christine did and said being caught by the security cameras—and available to anyone who wanted to see the recording—made Spock nauseous.

Another sickening thought came to mind.

The security cameras were all over the ship, even in the crew cabins. There was bound to be hours of "entertaining" recordings of the crew caught in delirium. Hours of footage of the sick crewmembers being bathed and treated, just as Spock had cared for Christine.

The security recordings were downloaded weekly to Starfleet Command's Central Intelligence for archiving.

It is time to do some editing, Spock thought.

Spock knew that he couldn't delete the embarrassing recordings legally, but he was certain that he could transfer the incriminating images to another tape and encode it with so many layers of encryption that would be impossible to open. He would almost literally lock them up and throw away the key.

Spock threw water on his face to waken himself and possibly find more energy. It didn't work. Throwing on some clothes, Spock decided that his first stop had to be Sickbay. He hoped that McCoy would be agreeable to his request without asking too many questions.

"A stimulant?" McCoy said in amazement.

"A stimulant," Spock repeated. "I have a very important project that cannot wait."

"You need rest," McCoy argued, crossing his arms. Spock moved closer to the doctor and lowered his voice.

"I need a stimulant, Doctor," he pleaded softly. "I have a time-sensitive project that will benefit the whole crew." The Vulcan's voice lowered even further. "The project is a border-line criminal act." McCoy's eyebrows shot up at that. "I do not wish to incriminate you or any other member of the crew, but, believe me, you will be very grateful when I have competed the task." Spock presented his arm for the injection. "Please?" he added softly.

McCoy was perplexed by Spock's request and curious at the same time. He longed to get more information out of Spock, but the doctor knew that that would just be a waste of time.

"Can I account for this dose of stimulant, Spock," he asked as he pushed the plunger home, "or do I have to cover my tracks, too?"

Spock took a deep breath as he felt the heady rush from the drug already working in his system.

"I cannot ask you do to something illegal, Doctor," he replied, already moving to the door.

Illegal? McCoy thought. What in blazes was Spock going to do?

Spock had sequestered himself in the main computer complex. He had accessed all of the files from all of the security cameras throughout the ship for the past week. Using the computer's search function, he had weeded out all of the unnecessary files, such as duty areas. No one could be on duty while they were sick, so Spock decided to concentrate on the individual cabins and Sickbay.

Even so, that gave him close to a thousand hours of recordings to weed through. Taking a deep breath, Spock set the display speed to a fast setting and began the search.

"Oh, no!"

Thirty-seven hours into the search, Spock found the recordings from the corridor outside his own cabin. He paused the playback, threw the image to the wall screen, and reset the speed to normal.

There Spock was, in all his naked Vulcan glory, standing in the corridor outside his open cabin door. He was bouncing on his toes and waving his arms frantically to someone down the corridor.

"Catch him, Chrissy!" he whined in a child-like voice. "Catch him! You're letting him get away! Here, I'Chaya!"

Christine Chapel came into view as she moved into camera range. She took Spock firmly by the arm and steered him into his cabin. It was then that Spock noticed that the camera in the corridor shot into his cabin all the way to the sleeping alcove.

As they passed under one of his cabin's overhead lights, Spock could see the virulent rash that had peppered his skin. It looked as though he was wearing a green bikini and a cropped, sleeveless green turtleneck. Until that moment, Spock had been unaware how bad the rash was on his groin, under his arms, across his chest and up his neck.

"Get back into bed," she ordered wearily. "I'll be right back to take care of you."

"But I'Chaya got away!" Spock heard himself whimper. "Bad boy!"

Christine patted the Vulcan's shoulder as she put him into bed and covered his nakedness with the sheet.

"I'Chaya is making rounds with me, Spock," she comforted. "I'll bring him back in a minute."

Spock sat, stunned. He had witnessed Christine's delirium first hand. In addition, he had seen recordings of other crewmembers acting out as their fevers topped out. He hadn't realized that he had been afflicted as well.

Spock searched for the tapes made from the cameras in his own cabin. He saw Uhura find him passed out at his desk. He saw Christine and the orderlies strip him and put him to bed. He saw himself spread-eagle on the bed as Christine bathed and anointed him with medication.

Spock fast-forwarded to when his delirium started. It seemed that I'Chaya made several visitations while Spock's fever was so high. But his antics with his imaginary sehlat was nothing compared to how he propositioned Nurse Chapel.

"If you insist in playing servant to me and in touching me in such a provocative manner, we will need to get married."

Spock sat back heavily. He could not believe his ears. Did he just propose to Miss Chapel?

Spock moved forward to another scene. Nurse Chapel was bending over the Vulcan's bed. Spock saw as he turned a smoky gaze to Christine.

"You could hold me," he heard himself say. Christine raised a brow in a nearly Vulcan fashion.

Spock had had enough. He took all of the incriminating scenes he had gleaned from the security tapes and dumped them into a separate file. He devised an encryption code so devious that even he couldn't open, having turned his head and hit letter and number keys at random in the end.

Spock took all of the security tapes and prepared them for the weekly shipment to SFCIA. After hitting 'send,' he dusted his hands symbolically, as if to say, "That's that."

Sadly, "that" was not "that" as far as the tapes were concerned.

Somehow, in Spock's desire to protect the tapes with an unknown and unknowable password, the Vulcan had ordered the computer to keep a copy of the incriminating file on the hard drive. It was easily available to all. This file was not protected by password, nor assigned any 'Top Secret' rating.

In fact, the security officer who found it gave it a very special rating -- "NC-17, Adult Comedy," before he or she posted it on the ship's entertainment video library. Numerous copies were made for personal use by the crew, so it was impossible to ever know if all copies were destroyed. As soon as one was deleted fro the ship's library, another would appear.

And the title? The tape had been re-edited so that the title came from Spock's own lips in the opening credits:

FALLEN ANGEL

No one ever knew who made the tape, except Spock, of course. He spent long hours off-duty trying to track down and destroy every copy. He even wrote a program that self-deleted the tape whenever it was played on the ship's system. But the fans of "Fallen Angel" were too clever even for the intrepid Mr. Spock. They kept multiple back-up copies on their personal computers.

"Fallen Angel" quickly became more popular than "I Was a Vulcan Love Slave," to Spock's never ending chagrin.

-FIN-

END

AIN'T NO MORE

I MEAN IT!


	5. Avenging Angels

Angels of the Epidemic 5—Avenging Angels

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did.

It may own ME, however.

Characters: Spock, Christine

Rating: PG

Genre: Drama, a bit of humor, shaken, not stirred

A/N: Part five, because you talked me into it!

Spock looked longingly at his bunk at 0430 hours. He had worked long and hard—again—trying to delete every copy of "Fallen Angel" from the ship's computer. At least on this night, he had finished writing a very successful program that automatically deleted the footage whenever anyone tried to play it on the ship's system. He had no idea how to confiscate the duplicates the crew had made onto their personal computers.

Spock was astounded at how many copies had already been made and deleted (167!), and at the crass comments being posted on the ship's message boards.

I knew that half the women on board dyed their hair, but did you noticed how many guys do, too?

Hey, you're right. Yeoman Gonzales does have a cute mole there!

I'd never have that pierced! It looks too painful, and, besides, isn't that against regs?

I LOVED it when Chapel threatened to put Kirk in restraints. Too bad she didn't!

Yeah, and did you catch her catfight with Uhura?

Did you see Spock running after his imaginary pet? ROFLMAO! (One of these days, thought Spock, I will convince someone to tell me what that means!)

Did you see how many of us reverted to children? Don't know if that was funny or pathetic.

Why is this rated NC-17? There's nudity, yeah, but it's not sexy.

Maybe whoever rated it wanted to lure viewers with a bogus rating.

Perhaps it was the hour, but the more Spock read these scurrilous remarks, the more he just wanted to put his head on his arms and cry. It was so frustrating. So far, he had no evidence that the footage had gone beyond the Enterprise crew, but he knew that there was a good possibility it would, and soon. Knowing that he was at the end of his rope, Spock turned in. He had enough time for a ninety-minute nap. That would have to do.

After removing his uniform shirt and slacks, Spock fell into an exhausted sleep.

The sulfurous smell of warm tar and the tang of chicken feathers assaulted Spock's nose. He opened his eyes and found that he was in complete darkness. He cast his gaze about in the gloom but he could see nothing. Suddenly, one bright light fell upon his face, and he threw an arm across his eyes. Slowly, faces, angry faces emerged from the shadows, and Spock found that he could not move. Something was restraining him, something he could not break, no matter how hard he struggled.

"We know it was you, Spock," one of the voices hissed. Disembodied hands held the bucket of tar before his face, scooping up large spoonfuls of the hot, smelly goo. Terrified, Spock struggled against the restraints.

"We know it was you, Spock," the voice repeated. "No one on this ship has as much computer knowledge or as high a security rating as you. It had to be you!"

"Why did you do it?" another incorporeal voice asked. "Why? Were you trying to shame us all?"

"I was only trying to help," Spock said in a voice so near a whimper. "I was trying to hide the footage so that no one would ever see it."

"But instead," a ghostly voice spoke, "you made the most popular film on this ship."

"I've been trying to erase all the files," Spock pleaded, "but the crew keeps making more. The only way to be certain that all the copies are gone is to mind-meld with everyone on board! I can't do that! Please don't make me do that."

"You've humiliated all of us, Spock," a new voice continued. "Including yourself."

"That's why you did it, isn't it, Spock?" a third voice jeered. "You wanted to preserve your own dignity. Well, what about our dignity?"

"Yeah," a new voice added. "We were sick, but you proved to be the sickest of all!"

"I did it for everyone's sake!" Spock insisted writhing uselessly against the unseen fetters. "I only tried to help everyone. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry, all right," the jeerer added. "You're also a coward."

"A coward?" Spock repeated, trying to inch away from the bucket as the hands continued to glop the tar before his face.

"We saw what happened when Christine got sick," a voice accused. "You ran away like a scared little boy."

"She was naked!" Spock rejoined.

"So?" the voice queried.

"I didn't want her to know that I saw her naked," he reasoned.

"But it was okay to see her naked when you took care of her," the voice retorted. "Why was that so different?"

"When I was bathing Christine, I could concentrate on equations," Spock rationalized. "When she was delirious, I was too sleepy to do that and..." Spock stopped.

"And?" the voice demanded. Spock didn't answer. The bucket of tar got closer. Spock almost gagged on the stink. "AND?"

"And I found my body reacting to her nudity!" he hissed, mortified.

"Well, Spock," a disgusted voice rang out, "you have made a prize-winning film. Here's your prize!"

Spock screamed as he was pelted with hot droplets and chicken feathers. He kicked and punched at the air, trying to protect himself from the burning tar.

The tar never came.

Instead, upon opening his eyes, Spock found himself surrounded by chicken feathers, and several angry crewmembers. Kirk was front and center in the group. McCoy held the odiferous bucket, and Uhura and Christine held spray bottles of hot water. Spock cast a very nervous gaze around.

Kirk first tuned to McCoy.

"Cover that up, Bones," he ordered. "It stinks." Kirk turned angry eyes to his first officer.

"What the hell were you thinking, Spock?" Kirk demanded.

Spock sat up in his bed, placed his elbows on bent knees and his head in his hands. Feathers continued to float around him.

"How did you know that I edited the security tapes?" he mumbled.

"Well," Kirk said, "we used logic."

Spock winced at the way Kirk said "logic."

"Who else has both the knowledge and security clearance to edit those tapes?" the captain continued. "But the dead give away was this: YOU FORGOT TO EDIT THE TAPE OF YOU EDITING THE TAPES!" Kirk bellowed.

Spock winced again, first at the roar of Kirk's voice assaulting his ears and second at his own stupidity.

"I was only trying to help," Spock whispered pathetically.

"HELP?" Kirk yelled.

"Yes, help," Spock nodded. "I didn't want anyone to be humiliated."

"Including you," McCoy interjected rudely.

"Including me," Spock answered meekly.

"Well, Spock," Kirk continued in a quieter—tough no less angry—voice. "You have Security working round the clock, confiscating everyone's personal computers, deleting as many copies of the tape as we can. I've had to threaten everyone to comply or else I'll have them keelhauled." Kirk turned to McCoy in mock seriousness. "Bones, do you think we can keelhaul people in space?"  
  
McCoy played along by rubbing his chin in thought.

"I dunno," he replied. "Perhaps we should test the theory on our dear first officer here."

Spock looked up in alarm.

"Don't worry, Spock," Kirk soothed. "We won't keelhaul you—today. But if you ever get another boneheaded idea like this again..." Kirk brushed hand aside. "Out you go." The captain turned to the others crowded around the bed. "Ladies, gentlemen," he said ushering them toward the door, "shall we leave our good friend to his mess?"

Spock looked at his captain in dismay scooping a handful of feathers off his bunk.

"Don't let the symbolism be lost on you, Spock," Kirk said. "Finding all those copies will be as difficult as picking up each and every one of these feathers." He moved to the door. "It only looks impossible."

A few minutes later, there was a slight tapping at Spock's door.

"Come," he called. The door swished open and in walked Christine with a vacuum cleaner.

"Are you still in bed?" she asked brusquely. Ever the efficient nurse, Christine carefully took the corners of Spock's blanket with as many of the offending feathers as possible, carried it to the recycler and stuffed it inside.

Soon, there was another caller at Spock's door.

"Come," he repeated. In walked Uhura with a canister vacuum.

"That was such a mean way to teach you a lesson, Mr. Spock," Uhura said as she switched on the machine and began sucking up loose feathers.

"This was planned?" Spock replied, incredulous.

"Yes," Christine replied. "When the captain saw the security tapes of you editing the security tapes, we had to peel him off the wall."

Spock gave the nurse a disbelieving look.

"An idiom," Uhura prompted. Spock nodded.

"We," Christine said, pointing to herself and Uhura, "came up with this scheme."

"You?" Spock said, affronted.

"Yes," Uhura hissed. "Us." She stopped vacuuming and crossed her arms. "Honestly, Spock, for such and intelligent person, you can be so stupid." Spock sat up stiffly, gathering as much dignity around himself that a person in his underwear could manage.

"I beg your pardon!" Christine turned off her vacuum as well and leaned closer.

"Yes," she echoed. "Stupid. If you had left well enough alone, those tapes would have been shipped off to the SFCIA and no one would have been the wiser. It would have been lost in the black hole of data storage. None of us would be the laughingstocks we are right now."

Spock hung his head at Chapel's chastisement. She was right, of course.

A stray thought captured Spock's attention.

"How did you know I was asleep?" he asked. "How did you know I would be dreaming of being tarred and feathered?" Spock caught he mysterious glance exchanged between the two women.

"A bit of psychology, a bit of power of suggestion," Christine began.

"A bit of breaking and entering, a bit of security cameras," Uhura purred. Spock's mouth fell open.

"Dr. McCoy sprayed a type of truth serum into your air ventilation ducts," Christine stated.

"And I had sensors imbedded under your mattress to let us know when you went to bed," Uhura added. "When they went off, I checked the security camera in your cabin—under the captain's authority, of course."

"Of course," Spock repeated, chagrinned. "What kept me restrained to my bed?"

"That was your own guilt, Spock," Christine replied. "It was fortunate for us that you were in the midst of a nightmare. It played into our hand quite well."

"Scotty reconfigured your lights. The captain replicated the tar and feathers himself," Uhura said, laying her hand on Spock's arm. "Now, sugar, that part of the plan gave me the creeps. My people have bad memories of tar and feathers!"

Christine sat on the bed.

"We would never have used it on you, Spock," she assured him. "That would be just cruel."

"But we wanted to get our point across," Uhura said, poking him in the arm.

"What point would that be?" Spock said as he rubbed the spot where Uhura poked him. She is stronger than she looks! Spock thought.

"Speak up!" she replied.

"What point would that be?" Spock repeated in a louder voice. Both women sat back and laughed.

"No, Spock," Christine chuckled. "Nyota means that you should speak up about a problem before you try to fix something. Fixing the problem right away isn't always the best thing to do. Didn't you ever hear the saying, 'Let sleeping dogs lie'?"

"Is that what that means!" Spock exclaimed. "When Mother used that phrase, I thought she meant that I should let my sehlat sleep as long as he wished."

Christine shook her head and gave Spock a friendly shove. "Nyota is right," she teased. "For a smart guy, you can be pretty dense!"

Spock caught the nurse's gaze and held it. Perhaps he was still under the influence of the truth serum, perhaps not. Right now, all that mattered was being lost in Christine's beautiful eyes.

Uhura noticed the crackle of electricity in the gaze shared between the good nurse and the first officer. That was her signal to leave. She scooped up both vacuums and headed for the door.

"I'll just leave you two to finish up," she murmured as she headed to the door. But before she exited, Uhura turned back and gave Spock one last stern warning.

"Just watch yourself, mister!" she breathed. Spock reluctantly broke eye contact with Christine and looked toward Uhura. "Do something like this again and you will have to face another visitation of the Avenging Angels!"

-FIN-

FINISHED

CAPUT

THE END

AIN'T NO MORE!

PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME WRITE ANY MORE OF THIS! AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!


End file.
